


Pushing Buttons

by thefrogg



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, It's all Flatbear's Fault, The Author Regrets Everything, You can blame Feelschat too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrogg/pseuds/thefrogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers have an uninvited house guest.</p><p>And a button invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Buttons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flatbear (duffnstuff)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duffnstuff/gifts).



There’s a small red button sitting on Natasha’s dresser. Round, four holes, two shades darker than freshly spilt blood - Natasha would know - and possessing a gleam almost akin to mother-of-pearl.

It’s been missing from one of her favorite blouses for over a month.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, ma’am?"

Natasha glares at the button as if she finds it personally offensive and restrains herself from poking at it. ”Where did this come from?”

"I believe it matches those found on your—"

"How did it get here?" she snarls, cutting off the obvious.

There’s a pause, longer than Natasha had anticipated as JARVIS checks his records. ”I must admit I do not know. Sensors indicate nothing dangerous about the button; it seems it was simply found and returned to its rightful owner.”

Natasha allows herself a faint frown; she keeps JARVIS on privacy mode in her own quarters, and the Roombas aren’t allowed in at all. She can’t blame them for not knowing.

Still, she can repair her blouse now, and investigate.

~~~

Buttons rattle in Bruce’s fist as he waits for his morning tea to steep: three a pale, milky blue, from a shirt fallen victim to accidental Hulking, and a single dark purple that might have come from something in Clint’s closet.

Maybe Tony’s, he doesn’t know.

But the rattle is soothing, right up until it isn’t.

"What the hell is making that noise?" Tony mutters as he half-stumbles into the kitchen, groggy with fatigue.

The buttons ping across the countertop and gleaming hardwood floor.

Bruce sighs. ”They were buttons, Tony, just buttons. JARVIS, could you please—”

The Roombas froze mid-chase and seem to droop dejectedly as they return to their charging stations. 

"Thanks. I don’t care to fish them back out," Bruce mutters, carefully stepping around Tony’s less than steady form as he retrieves his scant handful of buttons.

"Buttons. Buttons? Why would you—"

"They’re perfectly good buttons, Tony, and I can use them. It’s not like you don’t let me buy more than one of the same shirt if I like it," and there’s enough fondness in his voice to outweigh the exasperation.

"And the purple one?"

Bruce shrugs, dropping the button in question into his left hand with the others and straightening, or at least as much as he ever does. ”I think it belongs to something of Clint’s, or maybe yours, and still. Just a button.”

Tony snorts in disgruntlement, hands cradled around his coffee mug. ”We are having a button invasion, apparently.”

Bruce watches in amusement, sipping at his own now-steeped tea, as Tony blinks, mouths the words he’s just said, and deliberately pushes off the counter, coffee mug in hand.

"I am going back to bed. If there is actually a button invasion going on, I don’t want to hear about it."

The laughter stays silent until Tony clears the room, but once out of sight, Bruce loses control.

Steve finds him on the floor, wiping tears out of his eyes and still laughing some time later.

He doesn’t even mind that his tea has gone stone cold.

~~~

The button invasion continues.

White and tan from Steve’s button downs.

Cream and mother-of-pearl and jet black from Pepper’s wardrobe; she’d squealed over the emerald green one like a little girl on Christmas.

Textured metal buttons from jeans no one will claim.

Even the snap from Coulson’s backup holster, and part of a pearl clasp from one of Natasha’s purses.

They know it’s not the Roombas - those have a love-hate relationship with buttons and other hard-to-pick-up objects, and are entirely too smug about success.

~~~

"My floor is clean." The words are blunt, pointed, and Natasha glares, daring anyone to admit to trespassing.

"You were the first to notice the buttons, though, right?" Tony looks back over the calendar of Button Events(tm).

Natasha nods.

"I don’t understand why a clean floor—"

"The Roombas aren’t allowed. I do my own cleaning, but I haven’t needed to. At least, no vacuuming, no dusting."

Steve nods and sits back; there’s a small pile of buttons of various colors in his hand, and they click as he shifts them.

"So we have a house elf of some sort? Cleans and returns lost buttons." Clint grins. "Sounds like a huge threat to me."

"We don’t even know who all of them belong to!" Tony gestures wildly, one hand going to the line entitled "Unclaimed, Weird, and What the Hell?!", the other going to the stack of, again, "Unclaimed, Weird, and What the Hell?!" that had turned up on someone’s dresser over the last few weeks.

They’re all identifiably buttons, or some sort of comparable fastener.

"At least we have plenty of bait," Bruce murmurs.

~~~

Most of the Avengers’ floors are spotless.

Most.

Bruce settles on his bed, a handful of buttons in odd corners, half the contents of a Roomba scattered under the bed. 

Moonlight streams through the window, shadows stretching across the floor.

Bruce keeps his breathing steady, trying to project warmth and welcome, and waits.

~~~

There’s a tiny squeaky grunt from under the bed.

And another.

Bruce is instantly reminded of the sounds Clint makes when he’s eating something messy, delicious, and he’s with people he trusts and doesn’t care that he looks like a complete idiot enjoying food.

It takes effort to remain still, aside from the soft smile that steals across Bruce’s lips; the sound coming from under the bed becomes a quiet stream of grunts and moans, drifting slowly from one end of the bed to the other.

The bed shakes a little as whatever it is hits the leg at the end of the bed and startles, letting out a squeak of indignation.

Bruce can’t help the chuckle that escapes, and curses in in the quiet of his own mind as the sounds go instantly silent.

"I’m not going to hurt you," Bruce says, voice low and soft and reassuring. "We just wanted to know who was returning our buttons, that’s all."

There’s no sound for quite some time, and Bruce thinks whatever it was has fled at the sound of his voice long before there’s a tiny snuffle, and a scraping noise, and then…

And then there’s a little swirl of hair, and a small, dark face peeking over the corner of the bed, an even darker button stuck behind a pointed ear.

There’s a larger button clutched in both hands, gleaming plastic in the dim light.

"I’m not going to hurt you," Bruce says again, spreading both hands wide on his knees, palms out to show they’re empty.

The—whatever it is, pulls itself up on top of the bed, curling a long tail underneath it. Bruce can barely make out a round knob on the end before it disappears, tucked in the rough, almost snake-like coil of body.

"Thank you for keeping our rooms clean."

It shifts, almost nervously, and holds out the button in answer.

Bruce reaches for it, slowly, and confirms his suspicion that it’s small enough to sit in his cupped palm, perhaps the size of a balled fist.

Bruce’s, not Hulk’s.

The button falls into his hand, and Bruce realizes it’s from Pepper’s old winter coat, a red not as dark as Natasha’s preferred shade. He’d hidden it behind the nightstand, wedged between it and the leg of the bed. ”Thank you,” he says.

It squeaks out a reply.

"Okay, this might be a problem. Would you mind if I took you to meet the rest of the team? One squeak for yes, two for no."

There is a squeak of alarm, and a slither of tail against bedspread as it backs up a little, and then it’s gone, over the edge of the bed.

A stream of violent squeaking drifts up from the floor, undoubtedly curses in a language Bruce doesn’t understand.

Bruce leans over, intending to give it a hand up, but stops as it reappears and scoots derisively further from the edge.

It stares up at him and squeaks imperiously.

"Okay to meet the others?"

It squeaks again, once, and edges closer, close enough for Bruce to offer a palm.

It weighs so very little, feels fragile in his grasp. 

Its tail wraps firmly around his index finger, picking up Pepper’s button still held in the palm of his hand.

"You hold onto that," he murmurs approvingly.

It only hugs it close with both arms in answer, rocking a little as Bruce slides out of bed.

The lights in the hall show off the smudges of dust and dirt on its hands and face, along its body, and the transfer to his own skin. But it’s only dirt; it will wash off.

Sure enough, the rest of the team, even Pepper and Phil are gathered in the kitchen they usually share, and the creature squeaks quietly and backs up against Bruce’s chest, tipping its head back and gazing up at him for reassurance. ”It’s okay, I promise, they won’t hurt you.”

"Button invader," Tony mutters half to himself, amused and frustrated.

It squeaks, sharp and anxious-sounding.

"Nah, man, it’s obviously an itty bitty button buddy," Clint says with a smirk and a gleam in his eye.

"Do you have a name? One we could possibly pronounce?" Pepper asks kindly, glancing between the creature and Thor. "We might not be able to understand you, but Thor here can," and she reached across the counter to pat a muscular bicep.

It squeaks again, shifting almost constantly trying to keep everyone in view.

"I’m sure they would try their best, but it is kind of you to offer." Thor nods solemnly before continuing, "Knopf is much easier to pronounce."

"I knew it!" Clint crows, throwing one arm in the air and doing a little victory dance. "Button buddy. Ow!" He rubs his forehead with one hand, eyeing the newly-named Knopf warily with one eye.

Knopf squeaks waspishly at him, tiny arms crossed over its torso.

The thrown button goes ignored as it rolls across the floor.

"What was that for?"

Natasha smacks Clint in the back of the head for good measure. ”Knopf cleans your room and returns missing buttons. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect you to refrain from making fun of his? her? name in the process.”

"Ow. Okay, okay, sheesh. It’s just—Knopf is friendly. Beats pretty much every other monster we’ve had to deal with." Clint glanced back up. "Wait, you are friendly, right? Not going to, I don’t know, become Godzilla and stomp New York flat, are you?"

Knopf squeaks again and pings the other button off Clint’s forehead in response.

Thor bursts out laughing.

"Okay, totally not fair, not fair at all," Tony gripes, a Roomba butting his shoe as it goes after the fallen button. "Just because Thor can understand—"

"I think," Phil starts, considering his words, "between Thor, Tony, and JARVIS, it’d be possible to come up with a translator. If you would be willing to cooperate?" He raises an eyebrow.

Knopf squeaks once, and reaches out for the button Natasha’s retrieved from the floor.

There are smiles all around as Knopf hugs it close.

"So." Steve gives Knopf a real smile, not the brilliant propaganda grin, but something softer. "Let’s talk. You can understand us, and Thor can translate, and JARVIS, if you could start gathering data to work into a translation program?"

Knopf squeaks again and tucks the button back behind its ear.

~~~

They fall into a comfortable routine: Knopf hunts down missing buttons, and anything else small enough for her to handle once she has a reliable method of communication independent of Thor, and the Roombas learn to come when called, seeking her out when they’ve reached capacity.

Natasha’s and Clint’s and Bruce’s rooms have never been so clean.

She plays a mean game of chess with Phil, only moving her pieces when he’s at the office, or overseeing a mission; Steve’s sketchbook finds itself full of squiggles with arms and buttons, portraits of teammates with purple swirls of hair and big eyes peeking out of pockets and half-hidden in corners.

Her absence is only noticed when the Roombas complain of full bellies to JARVIS, when Phil’s chess game goes unmoved for several days, when no one’s seen a sign of her and dust is gathering on surfaces she normally grazes on.

"Has _anyone_ seen her?” Clint combs his already unruly hair into even more of a mess, eyes searching the shadows. ”The Tower hasn’t been attacked, she doesn’t leave the residential floors, and—”

"I do not believe this a time for concern," Thor rumbles quietly. "Patience."

"But—"

A tiny squeak interrupts him, and Clint - and everyone else - turns to stare in relief as Knopf pokes her head around the corner.

"There you are!" Clint lunges forward and goes sliding to his knees, hands reaching out to scoop Knopf up off the floor.

Knopf stops short, just out of reach, and squeaks again.

"I know, I know, I was worried, we all were, we couldn’t find you—"

Three more squeaks came from around the corner, their owners inching forward to attach themselves to Knopf’s tail and peer upward.

Clint’s shocked silent for a long moment. ”You’re a mom!” he whispers finally, awestruck, and offers his hand, waiting as the baby Knopfs glance between it and their mother and then, getting small squeaks of encouragement, or reassurance, or both, move to investigate.

There’s movement around him, around them, as the others jockey for a closer look; Knopf just looks on in satisfaction and climbs atop the Roomba come to investigate.

**Author's Note:**

> [gothfoxx](http://gothfoxx.tumblr.com) asked [flatbear](http://flatbear.tumblr.com) for a [doodle](http://flatbear.tumblr.com/post/62970885966/a-monster-that-leaves-random-buttons-around-your-house) of a monster that leaves random buttons around your house and eats dust bunnies.
> 
> I saw it this morning and immediately got bonked on the head with this little fic.


End file.
